


Can't Tear us Apart

by Tierra469



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bottom Dean Winchester, Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Castiel Talks Dirty (Supernatural), Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Castiel/Dean Winchester Mutual Pining, Character death but this is Supernatural, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluffy Ending, Heaven, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, POV Castiel (Supernatural), Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s15e18 Despair, Post-Episode: s15e20 Carry On, Prostate Milking, Succubi & Incubi, Threesome - F/M/M, Top Castiel (Supernatural), Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:08:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26279941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tierra469/pseuds/Tierra469
Summary: Dean drags Team Free Will out for one last night of debauchery before facing down God, but his careless desperation lands him in the clutches of a succubus. Castiel comes to the rescue—or tries to. You know how these things go. But is their one spectacular night the result of mutual attraction, the succubus’ venom – or of Chuck’s meddling? Castiel needs closure (and perhaps forgiveness). He finally finds it—and that thing he thought he could never have—in Heaven.This has turned into a bit of a fix-it fic and takes place just before and after Season 15 ends.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 5
Kudos: 72





	1. Chapter 1

Just when things seemed most futile was when Dean reverted to one of two “solutions” to their problems, Castiel had noticed: Alcohol or sex. This time he was leaning toward the latter.

“C’mon, Sammy,” he was arguing from the driver’s seat. “This place is perfect. Did you see those girls out front of the lounge?”

“The key word being ‘girls,’ Dean.”

“Girls, women—some of each. All lookin’ good. C’mon, we’re getting a room, get cleaned up, get loosened up (he patted the 12-pack between them on the seat), and we’ll go get some ass.”

Dean turned to glance over his shoulder at Castiel and Jack slumping morosely in the back, as he pulled the Impala into the motel parking lot. “Whaddaya say, compadres?”

Castiel looked over at Jack, who was still staring out the side window.

“I would like some ass,” Jack said flatly, without looking at anyone.

“Attaboy!” Dean crowed.

Sam sighed.

Castiel understood that Dean needed a distraction now and then, but it hardly seemed like the appropriate time. A week spent chasing down another “Hand of God” had resulted in God himself pulling the rug out from underneath them yet again and killing Sergei most gruesomely while Sam, Dean and Castiel were forced to watch. Jack, thankfully, was hiding in a warded basement during that showdown.

“I’m telling you one last time—stand down,” Chuck had warned. “Or one of you is next.”

Clearly he knew they were a threat. He had to know Jack was back. So why not kill them now? This Castiel could not understand yet. What was Chuck’s motivation for doing what he was doing?

Sex would not make the picture any clearer.

Dean could not be dissuaded.

“Dude, I’m really not in the mood,” Sam griped, as the brothers elbowed their way into the motel room. “You guys go have fun.”

“No,” Dean argued, tossing his bag onto the bed by the window, then turning to point a finger at Sam. “No, Sam, you’re coming. You’re coming and you’re going to get laid, and you’re going to thank me tomorrow.”

Castiel followed Jack into the room. They had their own double next door, but no reason to use it yet. He closed the door behind them.

Sam snorted.

“Because tomorrow—tomorrow is no longer guaranteed, if it ever was!” Dean said, waving a finger in the air for emphasis. “And if tomorrow never comes, then I want to go out with a bang tonight. A BANG, Sam. Not a whimper!”

Dean grabbed his Dopp kit and slammed into the bathroom, and Sam turned to look at Jack and Cas.

“Now get a buzz on!” Dean yelled from behind the door, as the shower started.

Sam sighed again, frowning.

Castiel was a bit concerned. “Sometimes I wonder if he suffers from manic episodes,” he mused.

Sam apparently found that somewhat amusing. He sat down hard on the bed, smiling wanly. “Whatta you guys wanna do?” he asked.

“Well,” Jack replied, “perhaps it _is_ time I got laid. If the world is truly going to end, then it would be too bad not to experience the best thing about being human.”

“Is that what Dean told you?” Castiel asked him. “That sex is the best thing about being human?”

“Yes.”

Castiel thought that over for a moment. “Well, I suppose he’s right.”

“So that’s it? You’re all in?” Sam said to them both, sounding mildly surprised.

Castiel looked at Jack. “I’ll just come along and keep an eye on things,” he said.

“You’re going to watch?”

“No, I…”

“We’re gonna need some condoms,” Sam interrupted, standing up. “And maybe some more beer.”

***

Dean wore the jeans that made his backside look particularly round, Castiel noticed, and a soft, white t-shirt. It must have been new, it was so spotless. Having returned from the corner drugstore, Sam buttoned his cleanest flannel and brushed his hair in the mirror while Dean fussed at Jack, rolling up the sleeves of the boy’s gray t-shirt.

“Now don’t forget what I told you,” he said. “Treat her like a lady. Be nice. Wear that rubber. Take no for an answer, if that’s what she says. There’s always other fish in the sea.”

“Fish…?”

“Girls. Other girls.”

Castiel was uneasy with the whole prospect. “Dean, don’t you think it’s too dangerous for him to be engaging in intercourse? Condoms fail…”

Dean turned toward him. “Dude, if the world’s ending, what does it matter? Anyway, if he’s the most powerful being in the universe, God notwithstanding, then I guess he can control his…” Dean waved a hand vaguely at Jack’s midsection. “… _stuff_. Right?”

Jack looked at Castiel with a confident smile. “Yes. I can fully control my stuff.”

Castiel wasn’t completely sure any of them understood exactly which “stuff” Dean meant, but then Dean stepped up close to him and he forgot to ask. Dean pressed a beer into his hand, then lifted his fingers to Castiel’s throat, sighing, and began loosening the angel’s tie.

“You,” he began softly, confidentially, “are gonna have to lighten up. Don’t be such a stiff tonight.”

He pulled the tie from Castiel’s collar and dropped it on the bed, then set about opening the top two buttons on his shirt, fingers grazing Cas’ chest. He glanced up and met Castiel’s eyes, then stepped back and gave the angel an appraising up and down look. Walking around behind him, then, Dean tugged at the sleeves of his coat, and Castiel shrugged the trench off, followed by the suit jacket. Dean laid them on the bed.

The hunter stepped back in front of Castiel, and this time he seemed pleased. He reached up to brush invisible lint from Cas’ shoulders and smiled at him, green eyes twinkling. “Doesn’t take much,” he said. “You clean up real nice.”

Castiel didn’t know quite what to say; Dean standing so close and preening him always left him speechless and distracted.

They stood there for a long moment, Dean searching his face for… what? And finally pulling away with a clap on Castiel’s back. “Make me proud, man.”

He was always striving to make Dean proud. But not necessarily by fucking waitresses. And tonight he was more than a little concerned about leaving Jack to his own devices.

As it turned out, it wasn’t Jack that he needed to worry about.

***

The restaurant/lounge attached to the motel was crowded, with a sticky floor and a band up front playing loud Skynyrd and Allman Brothers covers. It seemed to be the only option in town on a Saturday night. Dean and Sam were using some sort of hand signaling system, which turned out to indicate that Sam was to escort Castiel and Jack to a table and point out some potential mates, while Dean went to the bar to get drinks.

They finally found a small table in the back, where it was slightly quieter, and Sam dragged a chair out and planted himself in it. Jack followed suit. Castiel stood a minute longer, surveying the room, watching Dean disappear into the crowd at the far end of the bar.

Sam leaned toward Jack. “So those girls at the table under the El Sol sign,” he began, “they had their eyes on you as we walked by. Did you see them?”

Jack mimicked Sam’s posture. “Yes, I saw one with brown hair and she smiled at me. She was pretty.”

Sam grinned. “I thought so too.”

“Oh,” Jack said. “Well would YOU like to have intercourse with her then?”

Sam snorted, glancing around nervously. “Uh, no… she’s a little young for me. And I know it’s loud in here, but keep your voice down a little.”

“Oh… ok.” 

“Smiles, everyone!” Dean said a little too brightly, returning from the bar with four long-necks. “You all still look like you’re working a case. Fuckin’ relax.”

“Stop trying to play activities director, and maybe we will,” Sam quipped. He took a beer from his brother and pointed the top vaguely toward the girls under the sign. “Whatcha think?” he asked Dean.

Dean glanced over his shoulder in the indicated direction. “I dunno, man—a little young, but the blond is cute…”

“For _Jack_ , Dean. Not you.”

“There you go again,” Dean said scowling, sliding into a chair. “I ain’t _dead_ yet, Sammy. And I’m only four years older than YOU, by the way.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“You don’t think college girls want a piece of this?” Dean asked, leaning back and indicating his person.

Sam rolled his eyes, sprawling in the too-small chair.

Dean looked over at Jack and leered. “The important thing is what do _you_ think?” he said to the boy, then took a drag on his beer.

Jack focused hard on the young women across the room, setting his mouth in a grim line. “I could hit that,” he said.

Dean did a spit take in Sam’s direction.

“Hey,” Sam griped, sitting up and grabbing a napkin off the table. “ _Really?”_

Castiel was happy not to be the center of attention—it was good to have someone else the focus of Dean’s matchmaking—but he wished it were anyone else but Jack. The thought of Jack alone with a strange girl having intercourse made him uneasy in ways he didn’t completely understand.

And then there was Dean, who seemed more reckless and desperate than usual tonight. While Dean usually took the occasional failure to score in stride, Castiel feared that tonight (what with the world ending and all) he was feeling particularly needy, and might receive a rejection rather poorly. That would mean a night of self-loathing and heavy drinking, perhaps an angry outburst and a fight, either with strangers or with Sam—whomever made him angrier first. These sorts of nights often resulted in Castiel coming to Dean’s side in the wee hours and listening sympathetically to a lot of drunken babbling, until Dean either lost consciousness, fell asleep or began to cry. Castiel had lost count of how many times he’d just climbed into Dean’s bed and held him, petted him, told him it would be alright in the morning light. He wished he could just skip to that part now, without a night of angst to go with it.

“How ‘bout you, Cas?” Dean murmured, leaning toward the angel. He smiled conspiratorially and jerked his head toward a couple women at the bar. “That brunette was lookin’ your way. She look like your type?”

Castiel sighed wearily. “I don’t have a type, Dean. I don’t even truly have a gender.”

Dean took a hit off his beer and gave Castiel the stink-eye. “You’re not givin’ me much to work with, buddy.”

***

Sam eventually hit it off with one of the more free-spirited barmaids, and together they set Jack up with her friend’s younger sister, who happened to be there that night. She seemed like a kind-hearted but fun-loving girl, who warmed quickly to the idea of taking Jack under her wing and “popping his cherry,” as Dean put it. They all had a couple more drinks together, with Castiel at the table, then round about midnight the two couples headed to the men’s two motel rooms. Castiel watched them go with some chagrin, but he did admit to Sam that perhaps this was the best that could be hoped for, under the circumstances. 

Meanwhile, Dean had disappeared. It wasn’t entirely surprising; he had come back from the bar wearing a broad grin at one point. “I got one on the line, Sammy,” he said as he elbowed his brother, setting down Sam’s beer in front of him. “Gonna reel ‘er in now. Don’t wait up for me.”

“Yeah, ok, Dean,” Sam tossed over his shoulder. He was too busy grilling the barmaid’s friend’s sister to ask Dean any questions. Of course Cas was intent on her answers as well, but he turned to his best friend, curious.

“Dean…” he began. He wanted to say “Who is she?” He wanted to say “Be careful.” But Dean winked at him and swaggered away into the crowd. Castiel had watched him until he disappeared around the corner of the bar, into a sea of smoke and swirling people.

Alone at the table now with his thoughts, Castiel fingered his nearly-empty beer bottle—the same bottle he’d been nursing since they got there. The longer he’d spent in a human vessel, the more he understood Dean’s need for sex, for intimacy and comfort. But what he couldn’t understand was why Dean had to look for it outside his family.

Sometimes when he and Dean were alone together watching TV, or perhaps out on a beer run, Castiel found himself wondering… if he’d taken an attractive female vessel, like Anna, would they be in a more intimate relationship? Would Dean be more openly affectionate? Would he let Castiel meet all his needs? Then again… he knew Dean had enjoyed occasional dalliances with men. So perhaps his vessel’s gender did not matter. Perhaps all Dean wanted from him was friendship; he was indeed grateful to be Dean’s best friend, and cherished the many little intimacies they did share. Perhaps it was just selfish to want more, and silly as well—even if Dean did want sex with him, he could not enjoy it as a human would. But what if Dean _did_ want more and was just too afraid to ask?

He had admittedly enjoyed having human sex with April. But making love with Dean—even without human feeling—would be so much more satisfying. A night of spectacular sex with Dean could be Castiel’s _magnum opus_ , he sometimes thought. Making Dean happy made _him_ ecstatic.

He sighed, taking another sip of warm beer. Happiness was out of the question, unless he wanted to end up back in The Empty. But if the world were to end soon anyway… well, who gave a fuck? Maybe Dean was right, maybe this _was_ the appropriate time for debauchery—and he’d missed his window.

A middle-aged woman slid into the seat opposite him. She had pinkish hair and tattoos on her thin, bare shoulders. “Wanna buy me a drink, baby?” she asked.

Castiel frowned, assessing her condition. “I think you’ve had a number of drinks already,” he stated.

The woman snorted. “I dunno if you’re my dad, or Captain Obvious,” she slurred, then launched into a drunken tirade which Castiel stopped listening to after a minute or two, because… _Dean_.

Dean was praying to him. Well, not exactly praying—there were no words involved—more like thinking of him intently. In a yearning sort of way that couldn’t help but draw Castiel toward him.

Castiel stood up without excusing himself and walked away from the tattooed woman and his unfinished beer on the table, making his way outside. Not until he’d reached the parking lot did he stop to think—why was Dean needing him now? The feeling persisted rather strongly. He could follow it to Dean, but should he?

This feeling certainly wasn’t new to him—it was the same yearning that nagged at him in the bunker late at night until he came to Dean’s side to find him drunk and needy, or perhaps in the throes of a terrible nightmare. It seemed too early in the evening to find him in either of those situations, especially when he hadn’t left the bar alone.

But whom had he left the bar with? Castiel had not seen her. What if she had nefarious intentions? What if she were a monster, or working with one? What if this were another of Chuck’s traps and she was there to lead Dean into it? Or perhaps just as likely, she was a normal girl and her jealous boyfriend had tracked her to the bar and ambushed Dean in the parking lot with a crowbar, then dragged his bleeding body behind a dumpster. Either way, Dean could be yearning wordlessly because he was half-alive and desperate for Castiel’s help.

Cas spun to his left and started up the motel stairs, following his grace’s lead to Dean’s whereabouts. In front of Room 206, he stopped. Dean was in the room—he could feel the tingle along their bond. He reached for the doorknob, but hesitated. He had no evidence Dean was in trouble—simply a strange feeling. Then he heard it—a long, low moan, followed by “please… please… Oh God…”

Dean seemed to be in pain… begging… and there was that longing again… and Castiel couldn’t stop himself.

He popped the lock open with his grace and charged through the door, stopping short at the scene before him. There was Dean, _in flagrante delicto_ on the rumpled king-sized bed with a raven-haired woman. Dean sprawled face-down, backside in the air, the naked woman hovering over him; the moment Castiel appeared, she halted whatever torment she was inflicting and slipped off the bed and into the bathroom in seconds flat. Castiel hadn’t even seen her face.

He turned his attention to his friend, taking a step into the room as the door clicked shut behind him. “Dean… are you alright?”

A slow smile spread across Dean’s face as he pushed himself up to his knees. “Uungh. Oh… yeah. I’m good.” He slid off the bed and stood up, stretching. “Real good.” His erection bobbing in front of him, he began to advance toward the angel. “You, uh… you bring someone to the party, or you here stag?”

Something wasn’t right. Dean wasn’t trying at all to hide the fact that he was nude and fully erect. And as Castiel deliberately focused as hard as he could on Dean’s face, he realized Dean’s pupils were strangely dilated, his eyes glassy.

“Dean, you’re not well. You’re…”

Dean sauntered closer, gazing at him with the focus of a big cat on a small antelope. “I was hopin’ you’d come alone,” he purred, his leer positively sinful. Castiel then realized what it was permeating the room, besides the smell of sex.

“…intoxicated,” he finished. “Poisoned. By a demon succubus.” He braced a hand against Dean’s chest, halting his advancement. “You stay right here,” he said firmly, and dropping his blade into his hand, he turned and stalked toward the bathroom, determined to end Dean’s affliction.

Another flick of the angel’s wrist burst the bathroom door inward, revealing a tiny but buxom Asian woman—no wonder Dean was hooked, Cas thought fleetingly. The woman—the succubus—backed up against the far wall, eyes black, snarling.

“Confuto!” she cried, and in a flash, Dean was behind Castiel, his blade now in Dean’s hand and held against his own throat.

_What?_

“Dean. Stop. You’re being controlled by this demon. You need to fight it,” he said firmly, wondering how Dean had overpowered him so easily. His friend was now twisting Castiel’s arm behind his back, his other arm pinned to his body by Dean’s own proximity.

The demon grinned with delight, stepping toward them, giving her long hair a toss and Castiel an appraising look. “What have we here, now?” she gloated. “A boytoy for us? Not only handsome, but an angel!” She laughed. “Isn’t this my lucky day?”

“She wants to feed on you, Dean,” Castiel growled. “You have to resist her. Let me go.” Of course Castiel was confident that he could wrest away from Dean if he needed to—but he’d prefer not to hurt the man. Dean was holding him rather tightly.

“Oh, I’ve had a little taste already,” the demon said, eyes bright. “He’s quite yummy. And I’ll bet you’re…” she reached out and ran her long-clawed fingertips down his cheek, then put a finger into her mouth and sucked. “Mmm… even more delicious.”

Dean moaned in Castiel’s right ear.

“Dean, my love, have you ever tasted an angel?”

“No, but I want to,” Dean murmured, lips against his ear, and Castiel suddenly realized that was Dean’s erection pressed up tight against his right buttock.

“Then you shall,” the demon breathed, and she moved in, poisonous mouth open.

Castiel grabbed Dean’s wrist, ducked down under his arm and kicked the demon across the bathroom. He meant to wrench the blade from Dean’s hand, but instead he heard it clatter to the floor as the woman fell into the bathtub—and Dean used his own grip to spin him around and catch him in a bruising, wet kiss.

It was not a good kiss—not the sort of kiss that anyone would have enjoyed—but it did the trick. Castiel pulled away, but too late, too late. Dean pushed him against the bathroom door, fingers at his throat, and the angel knew he was in trouble. His grace sparked and flared momentarily—a brief flash lighting up the bathroom—then retreated, shrinking to a place inaccessible to him as the venom from Dean’s lips flooded his vessel’s veins and began to take over.

“Oh no, Dean… no…” he murmured, staring at his drunken friend. He was shocked to find himself paralyzed, a fly in a spider’s web. He couldn’t move his arms or legs, but suddenly he could _feel._ He could feel as a human felt—as he had once felt, physically and emotionally. What he felt was first of all _Fear_ , sliding into his human belly and coiling there like a serpent. That serpent was quickly followed by another, whose name was _Lust._

Lust slowly unfurled in his base chakra and began slithering up his spine; he could feel his testicles begin to ache, his cock fill with blood until it strained against his trousers. Castiel squeezed his eyes shut, heart pounding. This was not going to be good, he thought. And for a minute or two, it wasn’t.

Before the cursing, shrieking demon could even pull herself from the tub, where she lay entangled in the shower curtain, Dean had dropped to his knees before Castiel and pulled the angel’s erect penis from its confines.

“Dean, stop,” Castiel breathed. “Stop…” He didn’t want Dean to do this—not this way. Not like this. Dean would regret it, would be angry—if he lived. The demon would control them both, feed on them, perhaps even kill them…

Dean did not want to stop. “Oh God, Cas,” he moaned, Castiel’s dick in hand, and suddenly his wet, sucking mouth engulfed Castiel’s penis.

Castiel gasped—the feeling was intense. _Too intense!_ Dean’s tongue felt like pins and needles, his hand rough like sandpaper, and the sucking felt as if it would peel his skin off. His eyes flew open.

“Stop,” he croaked, “Dean…”

The demon succubus suddenly appeared before Castiel again, red-faced and angry, waving his angel blade in his face. “I should shove this up your porcelain ass!” she hissed—but then, seeing his condition, she backed off a step and dropped the blade. It landed handle-down in the toilet.

Smirking, she held Castiel’s gaze, reaching down to run her fingers through Dean’s hair while he continued to go down on his best friend. She studied the angel’s distress coolly for a moment or two, while he tried his hardest not to whimper at the pain.

“I see he’s only given you enough sugar to make you miserable,” she observed, running a thumb across Castiel’s lower lip. He couldn’t even turn his head away. “I could let this go on and on, and it would be fun to watch for a while… given your rude behavior. But I think the far more enjoyable option in the long run would be to up your dose… don’t you think?”

“No,” he whispered.

“No? Really? Are you really going to tell me you’d rather suffer than enjoy an exquisite mé·nage à trois with the man you love?”

She tapped Dean on the head and bade him stop sucking and stand up. “Dean, Castiel here isn’t sure he wants to join us tonight. What can we say to make him stay? Why did you want him to come?”

Dean looked him in the eye, and for a moment, it looked as though he might be stone cold sober. “I want you, Cas. I’ve always wanted you. You make me so damn hot.” Dean smiled sweetly and looked down at Castiel’s penis, still in his hand. “And your dick is awesome,” he added.

Cas shut his eyes again, unable to bear the cruelty of this moment—a moment that he’d longed for but now seemed a parody.

“Hey, what’sa matter?” Dean stroked a hand down Castiel’s cheek, and his touch stung. “Does something hurt?”

“Yes,” Cas blurted. Everything hurt. Including his heart.

“You two are adorable,” the demon purred, and Castiel watched in horror as she turned Dean’s head toward her and kissed him, long and lush, her venomous tongue fully invading his mouth. When she finally released him, he moaned and shivered, fondling her bare breast, gazing at her adoringly.

“Castiel is jealous now. Show Castiel how much you want him too,” she suggested.

And Dean turned to him, eyes heavy-lidded, lips dripping poison, and took Castiel’s face in his hands. “I got you, baby,” he breathed, and Castiel could do nothing but accept Dean’s coup de grâce.

_To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing that Dean’s poisonous mouth wrought was a loosening of Castiel’s limbs, and he collapsed helplessly for a moment into Dean’s arms. The second thing was a loosening of the serpent—that old serpent _Lust._ With his grace rendered useless, Lust opened its mouth wide and consumed him completely—his fear, his inhibition, his will, his very consciousness, it seemed. It was as if he _became_ Lust.

“You OK?” Dean was saying as he pulled Castiel up and held him by the shoulders.

Castiel looked at Dean’s lush mouth, let his eyes roam downward over the man’s chest and belly, to the glistening erection standing between his thighs. He ached for it all, a sudden deep ache like a punch in the gut. A desperate need.

“Dean, I want you,” he blurted. _I NEED you._

Dean grinned. “Yeah? Well you can have me.” He ran one hand down Castiel’s arm to his fingertips, then pulled the angel’s hand towards him and wrapped it around his erection.

Chuckling, the demon stepped in and placed a hand on each of their shoulders. “First things first, boys. Castiel here is way overdressed. Let’s help him with that.”

Dean responded eagerly, unbuttoning his friend’s shirt and making Castiel finally let go of his penis long enough to slip the fabric from the angel’s shoulders and pull it off his arms. Meanwhile the demon freed him of his trousers, his shoes and socks, and then he stood naked and unashamed in front of them while they looked him over.

There was so much bare skin in the room, it was almost overwhelming. He badly wanted to hold Dean’s penis again.

“I just love opening my presents,” the demon cooed, dropping to a squat in front of the angel and reaching to fondle him.

Despite what the demon was doing to him, he couldn’t take his eyes off Dean. Dean was gazing at him lasciviously, letting his eyes and hands roam over Castiel’s body, reaching out to touch his collarbone, thumb his nipple, cup his ass in one warm, strong hand. It made Castiel so _hungry._ He grabbed Dean’s face, pulling him in, and Dean kissed him a third time—this time long and langorous, deeply sensuous, a tangle of tongues and honeyed lips. Castiel moaned into Dean’s open mouth as the Demon sucked him in and Dean kissed him and kissed him.

And then… oh, then… the succubus took both of their cocks in hand and began to suck them together, spreading her lips wide and licking and stroking them both into a frenzy of ecstasy.

The feeling of Dean’s penis rubbing against his inside the demon’s slick mouth… Dean began to moan, too, his hand tightening on Castiel’s ass. He broke the kiss to drag his lips open-mouthed over Castiel’s cheek, down his neck.

“Dean… oh Dean,” Castiel groaned. “I can feel your penis… so good…”

“Feel yours, too… fuck yeah…”

“It feels so good…”

“Fuck… oh fuck… we’re gettin’ our dicks sucked, buddy.”

******

“I really thought it would be a lot harder to get the angel to cooperate,” she mused, twirling her straw between her fingers.

The demon calling herself Tatiana leaned forward, propping an elbow on her knee, her bottle-blond ponytail swinging. “So how _did_ you get him to show up?”

“I mean, I thought I’d have to hurt the Winchester to draw him out,” Izzi said, ignoring the question, “and I’d planned all sorts of delicious little tortures, but alas…”

“I can’t stand the suspense,” deadpanned the third demon, called Wanda, who then sucked loudly at her nearly empty glass of Pepsi.

Izzi ignored that too, poking at her salad. “…the minute I stuck something up the guy’s ass, Feathers came running.”

“Ooh… to protect him?” asked Tatiana.

“Well it would seem that way… fuck, I broke two fingernails getting kicked into the bathtub… but once the honey kicked in, it was _all about the lovin.’”_

“Bitch did I not TELL you?” Wanda said. “They’re a thing. Everyone knows it. I can’t believe you’re the only one who didn’t know, and YOU got the gig.”

“ _I_ didn’t know,” Tatiana protested.

“You’re an even dumber slut than she is, then.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, ladies,” Izzi said, letting her fork drop to her plate, “do you want me to go on or not?”

“Hell yes,” Tatiana answered for them both.

Izzi’s smile was smug. “Of course you do. So, either of you ever taste angel cum?”

“You _didn’t…_ ”

“Oh, yes I did. Probably shouldn’t have, but…”

“Didn’t it burn?”

“Fuck yeah. But combined with a mouthful of Winchester jizz, it wasn’t so bad. Kinda… _piquant_.”

“Girl, you’re crazy.”

“It’s been said. Anyway, I look up and the two of them are making out like movie stars, and I can’t get them to stop—so I figure let’s just go with it. I manage to herd them to the bed and knock them into it, then peel their gay asses apart so I can get a ride.”

“On the _angel’s_ dick?” Tatiana asked wide-eyed.

Izzi rolled her eyes and Wanda barked out a laugh. “Tat, I’m crazy but I’m not _stupid_ , ok? I jumped on Dean Winchester and gave him a good fuckin.’”

Wanda raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? And the angel let you?”

“He didn’t quite know what to do—well, at first. He is an angel, after all.”

******

Castiel knelt on the bed, skin crawling, lips tingling, body alive with want as he watched the demon writhe atop Dean. It was painful, being told to stay back, to look and not touch. He wanted so to touch. Dean’s soft lips, his warm skin, the taste of him… so delicious. He moaned, wrapping his own hand around his cock as Dean had just done, stoking his own fire. He hadn’t touched himself that way since… since he was last human. Since he last lusted this way for Dean. There were so many things he had imagined doing with Dean—but not experienced. He wanted to do them all now.

Dean looked blissful, his hands on the woman’s breasts, her backside, urging her on, groaning and crying out with pleasure.

Castiel stroked his penis, imagining himself atop Dean, impaled upon Dean’s cock. Imagining himself as HER, pleasuring herself on Dean.

“DEAN,” he moaned loudly, his body trembling, and Dean turned his head and looked at him, grinning.

“I’m gettin’ FUCKED, Cas,” he said brightly, then his eyes drifted down Castiel’s body and his face changed. “Oh, hell, are you touching yourself?”

“Yes, I… I’m imagining _us_ fucking, Dean. It feels good.”

“Oh, fuck, dude… that’s hot.”

“Yes… yes… you feel hot.”

“Your cock is awesome.”

“Hey,” the demon suddenly interjected, grabbing Dean’s face and trying to turn it back to her. “Izzi’s right here. Look at me.”

“I need you, Dean. Oh… oh Dean…” Castiel suddenly became speechless, white hot pleasure overtaking him, stars at the edges of his vision.

“Oh goddamn, you’re coming…” he heard Dean say. “Fuck yeah, Cas… come for me. Come IN me. All over me.”

“YES, Dean,” Cas moaned, shaking through his lonely orgasm, “I will… I will…”

******

“It was the saddest fuckin’ thing I ever saw, girls.”

“But weren’t you supposed to get _them_ to fuck?” Tatiana asked, puzzlement just visible on her perfectly Botoxed brow.

A woman passed by the table, throwing the three demons a side-eye, and Izzi silently cursed her. She broke a heel before she got to the restroom.

Izzi snorted, her eyes and attention drifting back to the conversation. “Try to keep up, Tat,” she said. “The story’s not over yet.”

“Now comes the _‘challenging’_ part,” Wanda said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Bitch, you are just jealous.”

“Guilty.”

“So then,” Izzi continued with a sigh, “I’m feeling satisfied for five minutes, but this desperate sadsack of an angel is harshing my mellow, and I decide to throw him a bone.”

“Let me guess—Dean Winchester’s ‘bone’?”

Tatiana snorted with laughter.

“I say to him, ‘It’s your turn now, Castiel. What would you most like to do? And you know what he said?”

“Probably not ‘Eat your pussy,’” quipped Wanda.

“He wanted to know what I’d been doing to his boytoy when he came barging into the room—cause whatever it was, it had made Dean Winchester dial his batphone down at the bar. _He_ wanted to hear his bae begging for more, the way he heard Dean beg me!”

******

“Tell me,” Castiel demanded, “what you were doing to Dean when I came in.”

Dean lay prone between the angel and the succubus, trying to catch his breath, while Castiel stretched out beside him, allowed once again to touch and caress him. He cupped Dean’s face, turning it towards him, running his hand down Dean’s neck, over his breast, rubbing at a nipple.

“Why do you want to know?” the demon asked coyly, tracing a fingernail over Dean’s bicep.

“Because I want to do it to him now,” Castiel replied.

“Oh yeah,” Dean breathed, gazing at him raptly but sleepily.

Castiel reached for Dean’s cock now, taking it in his hand and finding it semi-hard again. Dean reacted by sending a hand groping his way as well, and wrapping strong, calloused fingers around his own penis, which stiffened instantly. Both men moaned, turning toward each other, finding each other’s lips. Castiel began to lose himself in Dean again, in his warm skin and soft mouth and firm hand stroking, stroking. Dean’s silky smooth cock felt so good in his own hand. Castiel loved it so much.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” he heard the demon say. A moment later she was snapping her fingers and forcing them apart again. Castiel started to argue, but she had something in her hand.

“Here you go, Romeo—this is the little dog whistle that called you here.”

It was a strange looking instrument of smooth plastic, long and recurved with a knob at the end, and she waved it in front of Dean and patted him on the flank. “On your knees, lover.”

Castiel slid back as Dean rolled over eagerly and got to his hands and knees, pulling a couple of bed pillows beneath him, then draped himself over them with his pale, round ass pointing skyward—the way he’d been when Castiel found him there. The sight brought Castiel such a deep rush of arousal, he thought he could ejaculate then and there.

Dean grinned up at him from where his face lay pressed onto the mattress. “I really like this thing,” he said. “Is she gonna do it or are you?”

“What does it do?” Castiel heard himself ask, taking in the long, graceful curve of Dean’s spine, the lush globe of his ass, his muscular thighs trembling just a little. The pale, fine hair of his freckled forearm, folded below his bicep. He was so beautiful.

“Makes me cum like a fuckin’ Clydesdale, that’s what,” Dean said.

Castiel surged over Dean, grabbing the demon by the shoulder with one hand and snatching the instrument from her with the other. “ _I_ will do that,” he growled.

“Hey!” she barked. “Bossy angel prick!”

Next thing Castiel knew she had grabbed him by the hair on the back of his head and yanked him forward into a teeth grinding kiss. He tasted honey, saw stars for a moment, then she pulled away and glared at him. He couldn’t think why. He felt so relaxed and warm suddenly, and he forgot what it was he was going to do next. He looked down at himself and noticed his belly and thighs seemed to be covered in semen, his cock deflating.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” the demon purred, her face melting into a smile. Plucking her toy out of his hand again, she backed up, taking her place by Dean’s right thigh, and pulling Castiel to kneel by his left. Cas looked at Dean’s smooth buttocks and was overcome with the sudden urge to kiss them—the left cheek once, then the right, and then harder, sucking at the tender flesh, tasting Dean’s skin.

“Uuunggh, yeah,” Dean moaned. “Now spank me, dude. Spank me like the pizza man.”

******

“Now note this for future reference, ladies,” Izzi said, leaning forward conspiratorially and glancing at both women in turn. “Honey wears off ten times faster on angels. You gotta stay on top of ‘em.”

“Literally?” asked Tatiana.

“Not unless you want an angel baby, Tat. We’ve been over this,” said Wanda, examining her nails.

“So anyway, I found my little magic wand where he dropped it like a moron, and showed him how to use it.”

******

The demon succubus grabbed Castiel’s wrist to stay him—his fingers were stinging a bit after three swats, and Dean’s bottom was starting to redden—and waved the instrument in front of him again. “Now that you’ve tenderized him… watch and learn.”

Dean was groaning and panting into the bedclothes, legs shaking, and the demon reached down and slid her fingers between her own legs, then used her juices to lube up her toy.

“OK big boy,” she murmured to Dean, “here it comes.” And Castiel watched as she slid the probe slowly but deftly into Dean’s body. In, and then out, and then in again, and Dean gasped and twitched, crying out softly, then moaning ecstatically. “There’s the spot,” she said, grinning, and gestured to Castiel to take over. “Now you try.”

Cas took the instrument and did as she’d done, and Dean responded again, writhing with pleasure as he rubbed the hard knob against the man’s prostate gland.

“Dean,” Castiel murmured, lust exploding again low in his belly. “You really like that…”

“Ok now,” she instructed, “you keep stirring the pot, while I sample the sauce,” and it took Castiel a few moments to even notice that she’d crawled beneath Dean’s cock, greedily sucking him in while Cas stimulated him. In and out, caressing gently, while the demon made loud, happy slurping noises around his penis.

Dean was moaning with every breath now, eyes rolling back in his head, and Castiel stopped what he was doing to watch, entranced. He’d never seen Dean like this—nearly sobbing and mindless with ecstasy—and he felt himself responding in kind. He couldn’t help rubbing his own throbbing, drooling hard-on against Dean’s thigh, slicking his friend’s leg up and driving himself crazy with the friction. He wanted more. He needed more.

“Oh God don’t stop Cas don’t stop keep doin’ it. Keep fuckin’ me.”

“You want to be fucked?” Castiel asked, breathless.

“Yeah… yeah buddy I wanna be fucked. Sucked and f… fucked. Oh shit…”

“Then I’ll fuck you,” Castiel panted, sliding between Dean’s legs, “I’ll fuck you, Dean.” It was the best idea he’d heard yet. Slicking his hand up with his own copious precum and the semen still dripping down his thigh, he pressed close, grasping Dean by the hip, and replaced the plastic wand with a finger, sliding it in deep, feeling Dean’s heat and the way his body clenched around the digit.

Dean cried out, rising to his hands, shoving back against him—and Castiel groaned loudly, bending low over Dean’s back, kissing and licking at his skin, pressing one finger and now _two_ inside, finding the knot of his prostate and rubbing…

“Gah…. Uuungh… fuck yeah, oh Cas…do me… do me…” Dean babbled, and Cas wanted nothing more than to do him, he’d never wanted anything more in his life! He pulled his fingers out and slicked his cock between Dean’s slippery ass cheeks, thrusting upwards at the ceiling, then down against Dean’s balls, feeling the heat building again in his belly, Dean so warm and wanton and willing beneath him.

“Don’ stop… do it… just do me…”

So Cas did. He took his cock in hand, pressed himself against Dean’s opening, held his hip steady and _pushed_.

*****

“Hell, I think he drove Dean’s dick halfway to my duodenum,” Izzi laughed sardonically.

Tatiana looked confused, and Wanda snickered. “Big surprise?”

“As it turned out, _Wanda,_ ” Izzi said, eyes narrowing, “getting them to fuck was not the challenging part I was told it might be. The challenging part was getting a snack in edgewise.” She took another bite of salad and chewed for a minute. “I mean, it sounded like a pretty plum gig at first—who wouldn’t want to fuck Dean Winchester and that hot angel?—but these two horny bastards managed to turn a succubus into a third wheel. Like, who does that? Felt like all I did was grease their gears.”

“So… you didn’t get to swallow?” asked Tat.

“He came about half a second after he nearly choked me to death, but it’s kinda hard to enjoy your candy when somebody else keeps jamming the lollipop down your throat. And thus went the rest of the night,” she finished, waving her hand.

“No fuck trains? No moustache rides? Mm mm mm.” Wanda shook her headful of curls woefully.

“Well _yeah_ , but I kinda felt like they barely even noticed me participating. Or that I was just in the damn way. Once those two got going, all they wanted to do was fuck all night long like they just got outta prison.” She took her napkin off her lap, dabbing the corners of her painted lips daintily. Then shrugged. “But that was the prime directive after all. So I let ‘em.”

******

Castiel never wanted it to end. Lying in Dean’s arms, between his legs, feeling Dean beneath him, all around him… smelling and touching and tasting only him… it was paradise. He closed his mouth over the pulse point on Dean’s bared throat, sucking gently, feeling the vibration of Dean’s soft groan run through him. Reaching down, he pushed Dean’s right thigh up and out a little bit more, and felt himself sink a little deeper.

Dean sighed, tightening his fingers on Castiel’s backside. “Gotcha where I wantcha,” he mumbled.

“Never gonna leave,” Cas murmured. He sensed, finally, that they were alone—had the succubus gone for good?

The last thing he remembered, he’d been lying on the bed, kissing Dean, while the demon sucked the man’s dick again. Dean’s sexy noises were making him _want—_ and the demon’s hand on his dick was not slaking his thirst.

“Oh Cas,” Dean panted, breath hot on his face, green eyes dark with desire, “want you in me again. Balls-deep. Feels so fuckin’ good.”

Castiel was not one to waste time. Sitting up, he sank a hand into the hair at the nape of the demon’s neck and yanked her off Dean’s dick with an audible “pop.” Ignoring her shrieks, he flung her off the bed and proceeded to take her place.

She didn’t go quietly—but neither did she try to kiss him again. Screeching epithets, she smacked him in the back of the head, then raked her claws across his back as he crawled up over Dean, intent on his goal. He barely felt it; the pain just didn’t seem relevant. He was burying his cock inside his best friend once again when the door slammed.

Now they were fucking again, blessedly alone. Slowly this time, but deeply. Thoroughly. Dean wasn’t shouting like the first time—simply sighing, whispering. His body felt lax, his hands soft and lazy. He seemed occasionally to fall limp, then grasp Castiel again with a start.

Castiel felt rather exhausted himself—driven solely by the fire in his loins to finish what he’d started. He pulled nearly all the way out, then thrust back in, trying to nudge Dean’s prostate. And again. Dean hummed, back arching. Cas moved inside him once, twice, three more times, and suddenly his orgasm snuck up on him, seizing him up, and he drove deep and moaned loudly, head thrown back.

He collapsed onto his friend, trying to catch his breath. Dean patted his back clumsily, but lay quiet. After a moment, Cas looked up. Dean’s eyes were closed; he appeared to be sleeping.

Cas frowned. For the first time in many hours, he had an uneasy feeling, but he couldn’t put his finger on why. Perhaps he was just tired. He pulled out of Dean slowly and noticed Dean’s erection, still standing between their bellies. Well of course—that was it—Dean still needed an orgasm.

The last thing he remembered was lying down with his head pillowed on Dean’s belly, filling his mouth with Dean’s cock.

******

Cas awoke with a start. His first realization was that something was buzzing; his second was that he’d just been strangely unconscious. Why? He sat up, looked around, and felt his energy sink in horror as it all came rushing back to him.

Dean lay beneath him, pale and disheveled—but alive. Alive, thank… somebody. They were both inexplicably alive and relatively well.

He reached out a hand to shake Dean awake, but then immediately withdrew it and thought better. This was bad. Very bad.

Because they were both very naked. And very sticky. And _oh,_ Castiel thought, _the things they’d done…_

_To be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who wants to join the Succubus Brunch Club? I know I do. More to come - if you enjoyed, leave me some love or better yet tell me what you liked best so far. Comments make a writer's day :) Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel slipped off the bed as quietly as he could. Dean was still very much unconscious, which was just as well, the angel thought—he was nowhere near ready to face his friend yet.

He began casting about for his clothes, when the buzzing started again. He followed the noise to his coat, crumpled in a heap, and took both phone and coat into the bathroom with him, quietly closing the door. Castiel was shocked to see that it was nearly 2 pm—and Sam was calling. He stared at the phone for a moment or two, wondering whether to answer, and finally decided he should.

“Hello, Sam,” he said.

“Wha… hey… there you are! I mean, where the hell are you? It’s two o’clock in the afternoon and we’ve been calling for hours! Do you know where Dean is?”

Castiel cringed. “Yes… yes, Dean is here. We’re ok, we just… well, Dean had a difficult night, and I’m with him and he’s sleeping it off.”

“Jesus, what happened? Where the hell are you?”

“We’re safe. In the motel. Are you and Jack alright?” With some distaste, Castiel fished his angel blade out of the toilet, where it had spent the night.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re fine. We had a late breakfast and took a run through town down to the cemetery, and… what room are you in?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel lied, cringing again. “But we’ll be along soon. I’ll text you.”

“Well, what time? Dean wanted to be on the road two hours ago.”

Castiel offered a few more assurances and managed to hang up.

Turning back toward the door, he caught sight of himself, naked, in the full-length mirror. He stopped, arrested. While he was certainly aware of his vessel’s appearance, seeing it this way—through his human eyes—was a surprise. Despite ten years in a human body—some of the time actually human—he’d never had this experience before. Dropping his coat, he stood up straighter. Was this how Dean saw him last night? Though his hair was mussed and his skin crusted with dried fluids, his grace had healed the bruises and scratches that Dean and the demon had left on him. He took in the muscular thighs, jutting hip bones, the flat planes of his chest and belly. The organ that had driven him so mercilessly last night dangling so soft and innocent between his legs. There was nary an inch of skin that Dean hadn’t touched last night—stimulated, fondled, caressed. Dean’s fingers, his mouth—everywhere. The organ began to stir, despite his lack of feeling. He closed his eyes.

Dean moaned in the other room, but it was not a moan of delight.

With a snap of his fingers, Castiel cleaned and dressed himself, then hurried to his friend’s side.

Dean lay curled in a fetal position, tangled in the sheets, clutching his head. He groaned again, and Castiel perched beside him, touched his shoulder. “Dean… are you alright?”

“No… my fucking head…” Dean whimpered.

Of course. This was more than a whiskey hangover—which was dehydrating enough. Add to the whiskey hangover the aftereffects of succubus venom and their excessive sexual activity, and Dean could have suffered to the point of coma and death—the man was lucky to be conscious at all. Suddenly regretting his wasted time in the bathroom, Castiel laid his hand on Dean’s temple and let his grace flow into the man’s skull and down into his body, dissolving the collateral effects of their night. He could feel Dean relaxing and healing beneath his palm, but the accompanying awareness pained him… of every place that Castiel had bruised and scratched, the tender, inflamed tissues in Dean’s most intimate places, the sheer exhaustion. He pulled his hand back.

“Better?” he asked softly.

“Guh… yeah.” Dean rubbed his face and slowly sat up, then looked down at himself, and back up at Castiel.

Castiel could see the awareness dawning in Dean’s eyes. He stood up off the bed and turned away as Dean yanked the sheet over his lap.

“You should drink some water,” he offered. “Sam has been calling, and he…”

“Cas, what the _fuck_ …?”

Cas turned back to him slowly with the very human feeling of his heart sinking in his chest. “Dean, I’m sorry,” he blurted.

Dean’s eyes were growing wild, and he raised a hand to stop Cas’ talking. “NO. Just… what the _FUCK_??! He shook his head, emotions warring on his face, then launched himself off the bed, dragging the sheet with him, and stumbled into the bathroom, slamming the door.

Things didn’t improve for Dean in the bathroom. Castiel could hear him wrestling with the shower curtain and the bar, which the demon had knocked down when Castiel sent her reeling into the tub.

“SonofaBITCH! Seriously, what the FUCK!” Dean yelled again, and the bar clanged back to the floor.

“Can I help?” Castiel called. The water came on, and Castiel guessed Dean was now going to shower without a curtain.

“Can you HELP?” Dean yelled, his voice breaking. “What, like you HELPED last night? Jesus Fuck, Cas! I don’t need any more HELP!”

Castiel clenched his fists, dropping his head. As many times as Dean had been cruel to him in anger, and as much as he understood that Dean had a hard time controlling it, it still hurt. Especially when he knew it was true that he’d failed Dean again, in a new and incredibly personal way.

He suddenly felt a desperate need to leave this cursed room, to step away. He needed to think about what he’d done, and what to do next, and he couldn’t think clearly about it here, with the very walls shouting at him. He needed to be away from here, and from Dean—even if just for a few minutes.

He turned and walked to the door, unfastening the lock.

“Hey!” Dean bellowed from the bathroom. “Where the hell’re you going? Don’t you DARE leave!”

Castiel stood in the doorway for a moment, closed his eyes. Then called back over his shoulder, “I’m going to get us some coffee! I’ll be back.”

He had plenty of time on the walk to the corner bakery to think, and he walked the two blocks slowly, so as to stretch it out. He could have gotten coffee in the motel lobby, but he knew better; Dean always preferred the coffee that locals liked best, and he would point out the diners and bakeries and donut shops where people congregated in the morning as the best places to get a strong, fresh cup.

So he would get Dean the hottest, strongest, freshest cup of coffee in town, and hope that Dean didn’t notice it was a half decaf (because his kidneys had suffered enough last night). And also hope that somehow it might improve Dean’s mood just enough for him to hear Castiel’s deepest, humblest apology.

After all they’d been through lately, all they’d had to forgive each other for—why did this have to happen now? The scars on their hearts had only just scabbed over—and this threatened to make them bleed again. They didn’t have time for this. How could they work through this, with all the tribulations they soon had to face? If he and Dean were at odds again, how could they work together to help Jack and defeat Chuck?

Castiel blamed himself. He could have overpowered Dean last night and smitten the demon—so why hadn’t he? Was it weakness, or hubris that had been his downfall? In either case, he’d failed to stop the demon and failed to help Dean, and fallen victim himself to her powers. And then, _oh, then_ , he’d lost every shred of self-control and done unspeakable and lascivious things to his best friend. It wasn’t the first time he’d been compelled by outside forces to harm Dean; but those times, he’d done things to Dean that any other monster might have done. And he’d done things that he’d NEVER wanted to do—things that were not in his heart. Dean had known that. But this time…

His insight stopped him short, and he stood there outside the post office for a few moments, rooted to the spot. This time, he’d fulfilled his own most carnal, vulgar, secret fantasies. **And Dean’s as well.** This time, he was compelled by his very own lust—and lack of inhibition, thanks to the succubus. **But the same had to be true of Dean** —if he hadn’t already wanted Castiel, he wouldn’t have summoned the angel to the room like he did. He wouldn’t have confessed his long-standing desire. He wouldn’t have dropped to his knees and…

This was a revelation.

But.

He forced himself to keep walking, scowling blindly at the sidewalk. Whether or not he and Dean had enjoyed it while intoxicated with demon venom, or fantasized about it previously, it was still wrong. Dean had not truly consented to such treatment last night. He was clearly angry now—surely he felt violated. Castiel had taken advantage of him in a vulnerable condition, and taken sexual pleasure without consent from his best friend—the man he cared about more than anything else in the Universe. The angel was supposed to be Dean’s guardian, but had become his rapist instead.

Castiel didn’t think it was possible to have fallen any further.

By the time he returned to the motel, the angel had twisted himself into an agony of shame and self-loathing, and was ready to beg Dean on his knees, if necessary, to forgive him—even if he didn’t feel worthy of it. He was also entirely prepared to be dismissed forever—and had no idea what he’d tell Jack if that happened. He would just have to go. _Again_. Game over.

He could feel his wings dragging behind him as he mounted the stairs slowly, carrying his offering of coffee—which was probably lukewarm by now—and reached the door to the demon’s room. He shifted the tray to one hand and lifted the other to knock, when Dean yanked the door open. Dean’s face looked pinched, his eyes bloodshot. He looked Cas up and down.

Castiel held out the tray and Dean took a coffee. The angel peered into the room, noticing that a table had been upended and a lamp lay broken on the floor. It wasn’t like that when he’d left.

“Dean…”

Dean stepped into the walkway and grabbed the doorknob, slamming the door behind him.

Cas closed his mouth, trembling.

“C’mon,” Dean said tightly, “we’re goin’ for a little ride, me and you.”

That was not what he’d expected. “Now? But, Jack and Sam…”

“Are cool with it,” Dean interjected, walking past him. “I told ‘em you’d had a rough night.”

_Oh_. “I told Sam _you’d_ had a rough night.”

Dean stopped, sighing loudly, and flicked him _the look._ Then kept walking. “Sam said they’re good for another hour; they’ve got shit to do. Let’s go.”

***

The two men drove out of town, riding silently for a time. Castiel fluctuated between relief that Dean _wanted_ to talk to him—because Dean always did his best thinking and talking while driving, and most of Castiel’s favorite conversations had occurred in the Impala—and angst that Dean _wanted_ to talk to him. What would his friend say? Would Dean forgive him? Or curse him and cast him out?

After 6.3 miles, Castiel could stand the silence no longer. “Dean, I just want to say…”

“No,” Dean interrupted, holding up a hand again. But there was no real anger this time. “No, just… let me talk first.”

Castiel quieted, watching his friend with bated breath, and Dean sighed again, tight-lipped. Then he spoke, staring straight ahead. “I’m not going to blame you for what happened, Cas. I’m sorry I was an ass earlier, I was just… just pissed.”

“If you’re angry at me, you can admit it, Dean,” Castiel said, turning to him. “I understand. I failed you again, and…”

“Listen to me, man. For a hot minute I was pissed at you, but as soon as you left the room, I saw the goddamn light. This wasn’t your fault, for God’s sake – you tried to stop her. You tried to help me.”

“But I didn’t…”

“I said _listen to me_. I’m the one who fell for her game and I’m the one who fuckin’ assaulted _you_. And I’m… I’m sorry about that. I really am.”

Castiel was taken aback. This seemed like the escape from Purgatory misunderstanding all over again. Dean saw the situation completely differently—and this time maybe he had a point.

“But this isn’t all my fault any more than it’s yours,” Dean went on. “I’m tellin’ you, it’s fuckin’ _Chuck_.”

“Chuck?” Cas echoed.

“Yes, _Chuck_ ,” Dean said emphatically. “Think about it Cas. What are the odds that we land in this hoppin’ bar in the middle of white-bread, small-town nowhere, and just happen to run into a hot little _succubus_ who looks like she came straight out of _Busty Asian Beauties_? Doesn’t that seem odd to you?”

Castiel’s brow furrowed, and he realized Dean had to be right. He’d been so consumed with his own guilt that he hadn’t even seen the clues.

“She knew exactly who we were, and she was on a damn mission,” Dean continued. “The shit she said—pretty sure it was no accident that you showed up and she outwitted us both and kept us there all night, then just fuckin’ let us go. This was another monkey wrench straight from Chuck’s tool box, designed to rip us all apart, Cas.”

“So you think…”

“The little pervert _wanted_ us to bump uglies! He’s always wanted it, apparently, what with all the _subtext_ and _Destiel_ and shit,” Dean waved a hand around, as if fending the swarming ideas off, “and this time he wanted us to be distracted or divided enough to let him slip by us. Well _it’s not going to work, Chuck!_ ” he yelled at the car’s roof.

_Chuck wanted them to have intercourse?_

“We’re _not_ gonna let him get in our heads,” Dean declared, “ _or our pants_! In fact, we’re not even going to _think_ about it again. You and I are going to pretend it never happened, and we’re going to move on. Right? Are you with me?”

Dean turned his head and looked at Cas for the first time since getting in the car. He looked angry, yet resolute and somehow hopeful.

“Yes,” Castiel found himself saying, “yes, of course I’m with you, Dean.”

***

But it wasn’t that easy.

Castiel tried to forget, he did, and he tried to move on during the following days, but it proved to be a struggle.

Thoughts of Dean and their experience with the succubus consumed him.

Dean had _always_ been on his mind, of course, but this was different. Distracting. Obsessive. He longed to talk with Dean about it—to see if he were having the same reaction. To see if it were perhaps some sort of spell they’d fallen under. His mind was a whirling hurricane of angelic and human feelings, from abject lust, to shame, to adoration, to awe and wonderment that Dean obviously desired him too—to anguished disappointment that it all seemed to point to Chuck.

If Chuck’s aim had truly been to distract Castiel, it seemed to be working. He had so many questions. Did Chuck really want him and Dean to have sex? If so, why now, and not before? Why send a succubus to trap them and trick them into it? More importantly, did Dean truly desire him—or was that a side-effect of the succubus venom? Or worse yet, just one of Chuck’s plot devices? He knew Dean loved him, but did Dean love him the way he loved Dean? Was his love and desire even truly his own? How much of his inner life did Chuck control, as Naomi had once controlled his actions?

Had he been resurrected by Chuck so many times to be a help to Dean… or a hindrance? Was Chuck just using him to get to Dean? Was he the master of his own fate, as he’d come to believe, or merely an unwitting puppet—a supporting character—in Chuck’s play?

***

It hardly mattered now how he felt, or from whence those feelings came, he told himself as he walked the halls one night in a funk. He couldn’t tell Dean how he felt, and he couldn’t find true happiness with Dean, because if that happened, he’d be taken by The Empty. The only reason he’d lived through the succubus experience was because he’d been out of his mind; had his grace been intact, he wouldn’t have lasted five minutes naked with Dean before summoning The Empty. So why bother courting certain death now by wishing for forbidden fruit?

He needed to end this foolish pining.

He stopped short at the entrance to the Dean Cave. Dean was sitting in semi-darkness, the only light coming from the TV; he perched on the edge of the sofa, elbows on his knees, his head in his hands.

“Dean?”

Dean grumbled a response, but didn’t look up.

“Sam and Jack are asleep. Why aren’t you in bed?”

“Can’t sleep,” he mumbled.

Castiel came to his side and sat down, lust and Chuck and The Empty forgotten. He laid a gentle hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Headache?” he asked.

“Naw, just…” Dean sniffled into his hands, and Castiel realized he’d been crying again. The world was weighing so heavily on him.

“Just scared,” Castiel finished quietly for him. “Me too.”

“Fuckin’ batshit terrified,” Dean breathed. He leaned back against the cushions, wiping at his eyes. “Crazy dreams.”

“Would you like a snack? Or some water?”

Dean closed his eyes wearily, sighing. “No, Cas. Thanks.”

Boldly, Castiel took hold of Dean’s wet left hand, lying in his lap, and squeezed it. “I won’t say it’s going to be ok. But I’ll say I’m here if you need me.”

Dean smiled wanly. “Thanks, buddy.”

He didn’t pull his hand away, and Castiel held it, stroking Dean’s knuckles gently with a thumb. He let his grace stream softly along their bond, and Dean took a deep breath and heaved another big sigh.

“Have you slept much at all these past few nights?”

“Here and there.”

“You’re tired, Dean. You need to rest. Stop thinking and come back to bed. I’ll help.” He stood up, tightenting his grip, and pulled Dean to his feet. The man didn’t fight. Castiel put an arm around his shoulders, and they made their way slowly back to Dean’s bedroom.

Dean shrugged out of his “dead-guy robe,” dropping it on his chair, and crawled back into bed without a word, curling up on his side to face the wall. Castiel didn’t ask permission—he never had before—he simply hung his trench coat and suit jacket on a hook on the door, toed out of his shoes and came to lie down behind Dean, assuming the big spoon position. Fitting a hand over Dean’s shoulder, he did what he’d done on so many nights before—what he’d begun to do in the Dean Cave—let his grace embrace Dean’s soul, soothing and healing him from within. Helping him rest so that he could face another difficult day. Dean sighed again, but relaxation wasn’t coming.

Castiel nestled closer, bringing his knees up under Dean’s thighs, lending Dean his body’s warmth.

He had felt Dean’s longings in the past few days, but they had been tempered by his strong will to stay away from the angel. To forget what had happened. To defy Chuck. As soon as Dean’s longing reached him, it often stopped abruptly.

As much as that saddened him, Castiel wanted to respect that. He tried not to think about Dean’s body so close, his boxer briefs, the warm skin under his thin t-shirt. He would not allow himself the indulgence of an erection tonight.

“Cas,” Dean breathed, and it sounded like a plea.

Suddenly, Dean was turning in Castiel’s arms to face him. “Cas…” he said again. Then they were kissing, Dean’s hand on his face, Dean’s mouth warm and whiskey-sweet, lips soft and parting to allow a slip of tongue. Castiel’s heart leapt in his breast, then plunged with the realization that he could NOT have this… nor could he feel it properly. And yet… and yet…

Dean groaned, breaking the kiss. “Fuck…”

“Dean…”

“Fuck, Cas...” Dean rolled onto his back, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry. What the hell are we doing?”

“I believe it’s called making out,” Cas offered drily.

Dean snorted and Castiel stared at his profile in the dim light of Dean’s desk lamp. He ached with the strength of his devotion and his longing. Longing to help Dean. Longing to hold the man close and kiss him again and feel his body the way humans do. Longing just to connect. Never mind Chuck’s machinations and fuck The Empty.

“Dean…”

“Cas, maybe you shouldn’t… maybe you shouldn’t be here.”

“Here… you mean, in your bed? Or…”

“Yeah.” Dean turned his head to look at Castiel, his eyes sad. “I know this used to be kinda cozy when we did it, but… I’m just… I’m still fucked up about things.”

“Things… you mean the succubus? And Chuck?”

“Among other ‘things.’’

“I understand, believe me. But we’ve lain together here many times before and you found it soothing. We don’t have to kiss or touch. Maybe we can talk about what’s bothering you. Because I…”

“No, Cas,” Dean interrupted. He brought his hand back up and covered his eyes. “Please don’t make this hard. Just… just go. I mean… please don’t leave the Bunker, but just…”

The worst part was feeling Dean’s yearning for him, even as Dean pushed him away. He felt desperate to stay.

“Dean,” he pled lowly. “Let me stay and help you. You can trust me. Please.” He reached out to touch the hand still lying on Dean’s belly, but Dean pulled it away.

“Dude I don’t trust my SELF,” Dean groaned. “I don’t know what’s going on anymore or which way’s up. I don’t know what’s real.”

And even though Castiel couldn’t say if it was true anymore, he repeated something he’d said before with conviction. Something he’d said when Chuck’s treachery first surfaced, and the “Ghostpocalypse” had befallen them. Dean hadn’t listened then. Would he listen now? “I _told you,_ Dean. _We_ are real.”

Dean drew a raggedy breath, still hiding his face, and let it out slowly. “I wish I could believe you.”

Even though it broke his heart to do so, Castiel got up slowly and left Dean’s room—but he resolved to be right, nonetheless. He would have his truth. _We are real_ , he said to himself out in the hallway. _We are real_ , he repeated under his breath, over and over like a mantra. _We are real_ , he told his intrusive thoughts. _We are real_ , he told Dean in his prayers. _We are real and I love you_.

_We are real and I love you._ If only you could hear the truth.

Two days later, to save Dean’s life and vanquish Death, Castiel told him the truth—and succumbed to the Empty.


	4. Chapter 4

As Dean was dying, it took four other angels to hold Castiel in Heaven, his mourning wail thundering through the firmament. But it was Gabriel who finally got through to him and stilled his struggle.

“You monumental idiot—don’t you see?” his brother chided. “The dude loves you!”

Castiel turned to him, utterly confused. “What are you saying, Gabriel? He is dying senselessly and before his time! Let me go to him and stop this!”

“I’m saying _cool your jets_ , little bro. The guy’s in love and there’s no stopping him. He’s done down there. You’ve returned to him over and over—now let him come to _you_. He’s giving his life to do it.”

***

Could it be true? After Jack had pulled Castiel from the Empty, he had endured Dean’s tearful prayers night after night: “I love you too, Cas. We _were_ real. You were right. I hope you’re in Heaven with Jack. I miss you buddy. You were right. I miss you so much.”

It seemed that Dean had heard him.

He tried to send Dean little signs of hope, little encouragements—like Miracle the dog. He wanted Dean to be happy. Dean _seemed_ to be trying. But did some part of Dean _choose_ to impale himself and leave the Earth and his brother just to be with Castiel? He was about to find out.

Castiel stood on the dock overlooking the placid mountain lake he’d created. Behind him, the small, rustic cabin he’d created. At the end of the long, winding road he’d created. Nestled within the vast, pristine forest he’d created.

All for the Righteous Man’s delight and reward.

He could feel Dean’s approach, a humming along their bond—and he wondered if Dean could now feel it, too. Dean had conjured his beloved Baby—of course. He watched the rising cloud of dust the Impala kicked up as it rounded the last bend in the road, and pulled into the clearing.

Dean got out of the car and closed the door; Castiel smiled to hear it squeak, then solidly slam. Dean was always one for sentimental details.

Castiel coaxed a little breeze up, let it riffle the water and ruffle his hair, billow the tails of his trench coat. He tilted his head and watched Dean approach. Dean walked at first, then jogged, then broke into a run. He leapt onto the dock and loped to the far end, grinning.

“Cas!” he cried. “Here you are! Gypsy Angel Row—man, I knew it as soon as I saw the road sign! So good to see you, buddy!” He trotted up to the angel, arms open wide—and while Cas couldn’t help but smile back, he lifted an arm to hold Dean off.

Dean stopped in his tracks, puzzled. Castiel’s heart moved within him. Here was his beloved, shining like the sun, desiring his embrace—but he could not get ahead of himself.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said. “It’s wonderful to see you, too.”

Dean was gazing at him raptly. “Cas, there’s so much I want to say. Seeing you here… it’s everything.”

The angel was suddenly overcome with emotions—human features that despite his resurrection from the Empty and restoration in Heaven, he had somehow retained. He turned from Dean to stare out at the lake again. “You shouldn’t be here yet,” he said softly. “If I had been there for you…”

“But you couldn’t be,” Dean said.

“I wasn’t allowed.” Castiel hung his head.

“Some tough rules here in New Jack City?” Dean’s tone was surprisingly light, teasing.

“We are instructed not to intervene, except in special cases. I tried to go to you, but… I was prevented.”

“Once a rebel, always a rebel. Kinda sucks when your kid becomes your boss, huh?”

Castiel turned to him. “I’m so sorry. You should _not_ have died like that—you didn’t deserve such an undignified and untimely end! You should have been allowed to live out your days happily, Dean!”

Dean gave him that bemused look—the one that Castiel had grown to understand meant he was being an adorable dumbass. “Happily—without my guy?”

Castiel blinked at him, stunned. Had Gabriel been right?

“After what you said to me, Cas—that night you summoned the Empty and sacrificed yourself to save me—a part of me realized I just couldn’t go on without you _again_. We _were_ real and I loved you, too, Cas. I love you! I had the feels all along, but I was too chicken shit to admit it. I was afraid angels couldn’t feel the same. That damn succubus was a kick in the head—but the whole Chuck thing had me so confused and scared. And then it was too late and you were gone, and Chuck was done, and Jack was God… and it was just me and Sam, and…”

“And you weren’t happy?”

“Not without you.”

“But what about Sam? And…”

“I was done, Cas. And Sam—Sam needed to follow his own dreams. Cas…” Dean lifted his arms again.

“Wait, Dean…”

Dean’s expression grew sad. “Wait for _what_ … Cas, am I too late?”

“No, Dean—of course not,” Castiel soothed. “I’m so happy to be with you. Don’t you see what I’ve made for you? It’s all around us. All for you.”

“But I’m dying to touch you, man. Like, literally. Where’s my hug?”

Castiel smiled, trying to reassure him. “That’s just it, Dean. I’m not a man, and neither are you, and if I hug you right now…”

“What, we’ll create a damn wormhole or something?”

Castiel shook his head, amused. “Your soul is just as stubborn and impatient…”

“I hugged _Sam_ , for Chrissakes! He felt pretty solid to me.”

“Yes. Well you and Sam… I’m so glad you’ve found each other again. You were anxious to see Sam here safely. That’s why I put this off for a bit.”

“Put what off?”

“Your restoration. Walk with me.” Cas gestured for Dean to leave the dock, and his friend obeyed, albeit sulkily. Castiel guided Dean along the lakeshore, walking beside him, basking in his soul’s warmth and beauty. His emotions nearly overcame him again—so grateful was he for this moment, so moved by Dean’s declaration. Dean gazed back at him openly, waiting for him to speak.

“How did Sam seem to you?” Castiel finally managed.

Dean turned his gaze out to the lake, a little smile growing on his face again. “Awesome. He was good. Such a good life he had. But he seemed… tired, too.”

“That’s only natural. Being human is hard work, and being elderly is even harder.”

“Harder than ganking vampires?”

“Killing vampires was easier at 20 than at 40, wasn’t it?” Castiel asked pointedly.

“Heck yeah.”

“Dean, you’re tired as well,” Castiel pointed out.

“I don’t feel tired. Though I suppose I did sleep for three days in the bunker after Jack took over. Boxing with God kinda winded me.”

“Your soul has amazing stamina. That’s one reason you took your life’s assignment. But you’ll be surprised how much more energized you’ll feel after restoration.”

Dean stopped by a massive oak tree and turned to him. “What is this restoration you’re talking about, Cas?”

Castiel explained, “Life on Earth can take a lot out of you. When each soul returns to heaven, they undergo a replenishment of their energies. It’s often done by another ascended soul, but it can be done by an angel.” Castiel smiled, remembering. “I restored you when I raised you from hell. You were very depleted then—though still so lovely.”

Dean’s lips quirked, and Castiel was surprised to see a pink tint color his cheeks. “You flirting with me, Cas?”

“Maybe.” Castiel had to look at his feet to pull himself together again. “I’d like to do it for you again, Dean.”

Dean didn’t hesitate. “Ok. What’s involved?”

“My true form, for one thing.”

“Yeah? OK, what else?”

“You haven’t seen my true form since Hell, and you found me a bit frightening—which was why I erased your memory of your rescue.”

Dean frowned at him. “Well that explains some shit. But I didn’t know you from Adam back then. Why would I be scared now?

Castiel studied him for a moment. “Perhaps you wouldn’t.”

“You still ain’t told me why I can’t touch you.”

“I just want to prepare you for what will happen. This form you see before you—I’m simply projecting something you recognize, so you know me and feel comforted. Just as you are projecting a form you’re comfortable with and that I recognize.”

“But you’re still you, and I’m still me… right?”

“Of course, Dean. Nothing will change that. Now if you’d like to see me… the real me… I will show you. And I will gladly embrace you, but when I do, the restoration will begin. Do you understand?”

“So… when I see you, you won’t burn my eyes out?”

“You don’t have eyes.”

“Right. OK. And this restoration—it won’t be like… painful?”

“No. But it might feel rather intense, especially since we are bonded. I will take you into me, and we will meld for a time.”

“Ooh.” Dean grinned lasciviously. “That sounds kinda kinky. Though I liked it best when you were in _me.”_

Castiel felt a sharp frisson of energy ripple through him, and it was all he could do not to mirror Dean’s leer. “You will like this very much, trust me.”

“You know I do, Cas.”

Castiel led Dean to a place where the forest opened into a large, grassy meadow, and there he transformed before his wide-eyed friend from the “holy tax accountant” who Dean once drank beer with, into the mighty, winged seraphic warrior who rescued Dean from Hell—but even more glorious. When Jack restored the angels, Castiel not only regained his former splendor, but his wings—all six of them—now shone with an iridescent rainbow of translucent color. He tried not to be vain about it, but he hoped Dean admired the effect as much as he did.

Castiel turned his lion’s face to look down at Dean from his towering height, and unfolded all three pairs of his shimmering, all-seeing wings, letting himself sparkle and blaze with the light of his pleasure at seeing his beloved friend again.

Dwarfed below him, Dean stood slack-jawed for a moment or two, then broke into a broad grin. “Holy… I mean… WOW. Dude, you’re fu… you’re… AWESOME!” Castiel’s joy swelled as Dean laughed delightedly, holding his arms up to the angel like a small child. “C’mon, Simba, let’s do this!” he cried.

So they did.

Castiel engulfed Dean with his grace, drawing his soul deep into the angel’s being, just as he’d once done to protect him on their flight from Hell. Dean’s soul opened to him so warmly and wantonly, and Castiel’s love for him knew no bounds; their essences melded quickly, fitting together like puzzle pieces and winding together so tightly that Castiel thought for a moment, _this is it, we are one forever._ He would be a seraph with a human soul. He felt so utterly complete with Dean inside him, throbbing like a brilliant heart.

The angel cradled and quickened the man’s soul, renewing and rousing him until Dean’s radiance had returned to robust health. Then—although it pained Castiel to separate—he gently expelled his beloved, gazing adoringly at the luminous little spirit before setting him down once again in the meadow.

Dean just twinkled and pulsed for a time, before slowly taking on human form again.

“How do you feel?” Castiel asked him telepathically.

“Fucking fantastic,” Dean answered. “I think I need a cigarette. Oh crap… was that too vulgar?”

Castiel rolled all his eyes. “This is heaven, not church.”

Dean laughed, then startled as Castiel instantaneously transmuted himself back into his trench coat. “Whoa! Hey… that was incredible Cas. _You’re_ incredible. How do I… how do I thank you for that?”

“Just doing my job, Dean,” he replied, but couldn’t keep a sly smile from his face. “Though an expression of thanks is not out of the question. Come on, I’ve got another surprise for you.”

“This just keeps getting better!” Dean crowed, and Castiel, in his haste, swept them back to the dock in an eye-blink.

“I built this for you too,” he said to Dean, and turning from the lake, he gestured to the cabin. Dean took it in with a bright smile. “Well, to be honest, I built it for _us.”_

“Yeah? It’s really nice, Cas. I love it!” Dean strode down the dock to the shore, and up to the steps of the small dwelling.

“Wait,” Castiel said behind him, and he stopped and turned. “Dean, what’s special about this place is that it’s enchanted.”

Dean’s brow furrowed. “Enchanted how?”

“A spell of my own devising. When we enter, you see, we’ll both feel human again.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up. “OK, Rowena, so that means… I can hug you here? Like old times? And you’ll feel it too?”

Castiel smiled, glad that was Dean’s first thought. “Yes, you can hug me. And we can both eat pie, and drink beer, and watch movies, and… anything you’d like.”

Dean leered again. “Anything, huh?”

Castiel followed Dean as he hopped up the steps and opened the door, stepping inside and turning to grab Castiel the minute they both crossed the threshold. Dean pulled him close, hands on his arms and then around his back, tugging him into a tight embrace. The downshift in Castiel’s energy was stunning for a moment, but then he could _feel_ … Dean’s arms, his body, his warmth. He pressed his nose into Dean’s hair and drew in his fragrance as his friend hugged him close, burying his face in Castiel’s collar. They stood that way, taking each other in again, for what seemed like an eternity—and perhaps it was.

Like Dean’s restoration, it made Castiel feel whole again.

“Show me around,” Dean demanded then, backing away and grabbing his hand. “Does this place have cable? Hot tub? Refrigerator?” Dean glanced around the living area, with its view of the lake and cozy couches and chairs, opening to the kitchen with plenty of counter space and gleaming appliances. “You got pie? Whipped cream?”

“Yes, and yes,” Cas answered.

“Good, we’ll need that. Coffee maker?”

“Well, duh.”

Dean pulled him down a short hallway wherein there were three doors. “What’s behind these?” he asked.

“Dragons,” Castiel answered.

Dean looked at him wide-eyed. “Wait, really?”

“No, Dean, just open the door and look.”

“I mean ‘cause that might be kinda cool. Y’know, if you were gonna fight ‘em. Like Godzilla vs. the Flying Lion…”

“Dean, just look,” Cas said, feeling impatient.

Dean reached up to touch the symbol on the door, run his fingers along its angles. “Wait, is this…?” He opened the door to reveal his bedroom at the bunker. “Ho! It _is_ my room!” He walked in, spinning around. “There’s my albums, and Dad’s collection, and…” he lifted the pillow on the bed, “…my Colt!”

Castiel smiled proudly—he’d striven to remember everything, just the way Dean had kept it.

But Dean grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the room and down to the next door, which read _Wild Bill Suite, Room 26_. “What’s in here?”

Cas gestured with his free hand, and Dean opened the door and pulled him inside. “Oh! Hey, this is that cowboy motel! The Stampede!”

“In Dodge City,” Cas affirmed. “You were very happy in that place.”

“I was happy ‘cause I had _you_ back, dude. And the whole posse was together.” Dean smiled and looked around, taking it all in. “It felt good.”

“And you like cowboys.”

“Yeah, that too.” Dean gazed around another moment, then came back to Cas, looking thoughtful. “You know, this is really cool… but I’m not ready to relive the past just yet. How about… is there just a regular cabin bedroom…” he took Cas’ hands in his own, “… with a nice mattress and clean sheets and a window or two?”

Cas’ heart fluttered in his chest, and he grinned. “Of course, Dean.” He walked backwards to the door, pulling Dean along, and they left the Stampede Motel and ventured to the next door at the end of the hall. “Go ahead,” he gestured.

Dean turned the knob and pushed the door wide, and his mouth dropped open. The room was rustic but well-appointed, with a huge four-poster log bed facing floor-to-ceiling windows and French doors that stood open to the deck. Long, gossamer curtains billowed in the breeze. Outside, it was dark, a full moon setting over the mountains, casting its shimmering moonglade across the lake. Candles flickered on the dresser, and tiny lights twinkled near the ceiling, lending the room a magical, soft glow.

“Wow, this is… this is…” Dean turned to him, green eyes intent and searching. “Cas, before the Empty grabbed you… you said that what you truly wanted, you could never have. Was this it? Me and you, like this?”

Cas felt caught out. This cabin was for Dean, he’d told himself. Or perhaps for them both… He suddenly felt uncertain. Was any of this truly what Dean wanted or needed now? Or was it actually just for _Castiel_?

“I just wanted to be with you, Dean,” he said.

“But you _were_ with me.”

“I wanted to be with you in every sense of the word. I wanted to meet all your needs. I wanted to be your brother and best friend—I treasured those roles—but I sensed you needed so much more. I wanted to be your partner and your husband and your lover... I wanted you to let me love you. I wanted you to freely love _me_.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you think it was possible?”

“Because at first I didn’t understand it. And by the time I did—by the time I thought it might be possible—it was too late. My deal with the Empty…”

Dean sighed, pulled on the hand he was holding until they were standing toe to toe, leaned his forehead against Castiel’s. “I’m sorry, Cas.”

“I know. But if I hadn’t made that deal, Jack wouldn’t…”

“That’s not what I mean. I mean I’m sorry that I wasn’t paying more attention. I’m sorry I made assumptions and took you for granted. I’m sorry I held back and didn’t believe in us. I’m sorry I let Chuck get to me. I was a fool.”

Dean pulled him closer, wrapping the angel in his arms.

“You have nothing to apologize for. You were busy saving the Universe,” Castiel said. He reached up to tilt Dean’s face down, and kissed him softly on the forehead.

Dean pulled back and looked at him resolutely. “Cas, you restored my soul. So how ‘bout you let me fix your heart.” His mouth quirked into a sly grin. “And maybe… y’know… suck your dick. If that’s ok.”

Castiel blinked at him, owl-eyed. “It’s ok,” he said stupidly.

Dean kissed his lips softly and sweetly, his mouth so warm and wet, and Castiel melted into his arms. Dean went on kissing—his cheeks, his temples, his jaw, his throat. “Gonna undress you now and lay you down on that sheepskin over there on that bed,” he finally said.

“Alright,” Cas replied, in a bit of a daze. He shrugged off his coat and suitcoat, letting them fall to the plush oriental carpet, and toed out of his shoes. Dean loosened and removed the angel’s tie, then unbuttoned his shirt, nuzzling his face while he did so. When the shirt fell open, Dean placed a warm hand on his chest and thumbed at a nipple, raising gooseflesh along Castiel’s arms. “Ooh,” Castiel said, shivering.

Dean undid Cas’ belt and trousers, pushed them down to the floor along with his undershorts, then stood up and pulled Cas close again, clasping his buttocks in his two big hands. Castiel felt his whole naked length against Dean’s clothed body—a strange sensation. Dean reached down and pulled one of his thighs up, spreading his legs apart, and he could feel his hard penis pressing against the denim of Dean’s jeans.

“Wrap your legs around me,” Dean said, so Cas did, crossing his ankles behind Dean’s hips and holding onto his shoulders. Dean kissed his mouth deeply as he carried Castiel to the bed and hoisted him up to lie down on the sheepskin coverlet there. The angel stretched out and Dean took a step back, his gaze admiring.

Before they went further, Castiel felt he had to know one more thing. “Dean, do you want me in this form?”

Dean looked confused a moment, his brow furrowing. “What, like, as opposed to your true form?”

“No, I mean as opposed to a woman. Would you like me to be in a female form?”

Dean’s scowl deepened. “Why would I want that?”

“Well, I know you liked women, and… I’ve often wondered if you would have been more open to me had I been in a female vessel. This is your chance.”

“Well yeah, I liked women, but… you’re Cas, and Cas, to me, looks like this,” he said, gesturing at Castiel’s male body spread out on the bed. “When you’re not an awesome flying rainbow lion, that is.”

“So when you said I make you so damn hot… you weren’t lying?”

“When did I… oh… well, I couldn’t exactly lie with a mouthful of demon spit, now could I?”

Castiel relaxed. “No, I suppose not.”

Dean smiled. “Castiel,” he said solemnly. “I love you so much. And you make me _so_ damn hot.”

Cas couldn’t keep the smile from his face, feeling suddenly light-headed and a little bit giddy. “I do?”

“Mmm-hmm. And I’ll prove it.” Dean stood before him then and stripped off his flannel shirt, then his tee, dropping them both to the floor. Castiel watched as he next bent to remove his boots, then unbuckled his belt and dropped his jeans, kicking them off his legs.

“See this?” he purred, palming the front of his boxer briefs. Castiel’s gaze locked onto his erection, straining at the front of the cloth.

“Yes...”

“It’s all about you, Cas.”

Dean peeled his briefs down, slowly letting his cock spring free. He looked down at it, ran a hand up and down its length, thumbed at the fluid beading at the head. “Good to know he still works in heaven.”

Castiel felt his mouth fill with saliva and licked his lips as Dean slowly approached, swaying closer to stand between his feet where they hung over the bed. Dean bent down and kissed the inside of his thigh, opening his mouth and sucking a little. Then the other thigh. Then he kissed Castiel’s hip bones, his belly, kissing his way up to his chest as Castiel ran fingers through his hair, sighing with pleasure.

“But y’know,” Dean continued, “it feels different now. It’s like he’s not calling the shots anymore. I am. And I’m not in a hurry to finish like I used to be… I could just do this forever, you know?”

Castiel was speechless, riveted by the beauty of Dean’s soul, and feeling more intoxicated by the moment by his love and desire.

“I like that idea,” Dean went on. “You. And me…” and Dean finally climbed onto the bed, trying to reach the angel’s neck and succeeding, latching on to that spot right below his ear and sucking gently, sending Castiel’s pulse racing even higher. He lowered his hips to nestle between Castiel’s thighs, pulling one leg up to spread him open and grinding down on him deliciously. “…fucking into eternity,” he whispered into the angel’s ear.

Castiel gasped and groaned, feeling Dean’s cock slide against his, both of them dripping wet and slippery with precum. “If that’s what you want… oh Dean… yes. _Yes_.” _Eternally YES._

Dean kissed him hungrily, and Cas held him so tight, wrapping his legs around his lover again, rocking slowly with him. “What do _you_ want, Cas?” Dean panted, finally breaking away.

Castiel squeezed Dean’s ass with one hand, tugging on his hair with the other to make Dean rise up on an elbow and look into his eyes. “I told you already. To love and be loved,” he answered.

Dean smiled tenderly. “While we fuck into eternity?”

Cas smiled back. “Can we call it making love? Just your love could make me climax.”

Dean’s look turned a little darker. “Really? Like, I can make you come just loving you?”

“Didn’t you feel it, Dean? During your restoration? The way you made me feel… our bond. It wasn’t sexual—but it was deep and blissful and euphoric… and somehow erotic. We were one. It was _powerful._ ”

“Yeah… I did feel it.” Eyes bright with excitement, Dean rolled off Castiel and lay next to him, clasping his hands, looking into his eyes. “I’m gonna love you ‘til you come all over me.”

And Dean proceeded to tell Castiel just how much he loved him, how much he’d always loved him, how deeply he missed him when he’d been gone, and how much more he loved him now. How grateful he was. How moved. How happy. He looked into the angel’s eyes, and Castiel could not only hear his words, he could feel the truth of them, feel Dean’s soul reaching out to hold his grace, feel Dean’s love surrounding him, infusing him, coaxing his vibration ever higher.

He let out a moan, pressing their foreheads together, feeling the magnificent energy of Dean’s love blossom in his pelvis like a lotus and release its fragrance in a rush.

“I love you Cas, baby, I love you so much. I…”

“Oh _Dean,”_ Cas panted, and captured his lips in a bruising kiss as the most heavenly orgasm rocketed through him, turning him inside-out. When he came to his senses, Dean was gazing at him adoringly, holding him close, a small smile playing across his face.

“Dean, that was beautiful,” Cas whispered. “It felt so good. I think I did come all over you.”

“Yeah? Well get ready for more, angel, ‘cause I’m nowhere near done loving you. Hope you’re stocked up on sheets and towels.”

Castiel might have made that night last for five hundred years; he lost count of the Earth time. It hardly mattered. They had eternity to fuck and fuck they did. They ended on the balcony as the sun came up, lighting up the forest on the far side of the lake as it rose behind the cabin. Dean bent over the railing in front of Castiel, moaning as the angel thrust into his body slowly and gently. Castiel admired the long plane of his back, the way the morning light glowed on his skin. The way his buttocks parted to admit Castiel’s cock, over and over. The way Dean’s body squeezed him so eagerly as he plumbed Dean’s depths and caressed his prostate gland so deftly. Dean’s buttocks were so soft, so pale golden, with just a scattering of sweet freckles. Castiel loved them all so.

He tried not feel sorrowful that they did not exist on Earth any longer—but grateful that Dean’s loving soul had recreated these freckles so perfectly here, just for his delight.

He reached down and wrapped an arm around Dean’s waist, lifting him up to lean back against his chest, and Dean propped a foot on the rail so Cas could keep thrusting up inside him as he reached around and wrapped his other hand around Dean’s slick cock. Dean twined their fingers together around his member, and Castiel felt Dean’s lips press against his neck.

Castiel felt his cup of love filled—and running over. He knew Dean had places he should go and other souls to see; he had things to learn and accomplish while here and Karma to work out. Castiel had important tasks, too. So they would finish their lovemaking for now. But he knew without a doubt that Dean would always come back to him, to fill their shared well with love and drink from it—whenever one of them grew thirsty. In whatever form they chose at the time.

This was what he truly wanted—what he’d waited his entire existence for. To love and be loved by his beloved.

Hearing Dean’s soft whimpers, feeling his soul’s pleasure, the angel stroked his human lover harder, impaled him deeper and whispered, “I love you, Dean. Let’s come together.”

“Oh fill me, babe. Fill me good with love,” Dean moaned—and Castiel did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for going on this journey with me! This story's planned ending changed completely after the show ended - not gonna lie, I hated the way they ended the show, and had a really hard time coming back to finish this story with a broken heart. Because Dean and Castiel deserve all the love (and the sex) I turned it into a bit of a fix-it fic just to mend my feels (whilst trying to stay within canon, as promised). If you liked it, laughed, cried, got mad, want to talk about YOUR version of their heaven, I'd love to know. Comments make my world to round. Love to you for reading!


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